Not that I’m complaining.
It’s a clear night in a beautiful outdoor terrace restaurant.
“You know, I think this would be one of the hardest jobs on earth,” I say as I crack open a crab claw.
“What would be?” Elliot says as he concentrates on the task at hand.
“Being a fisherman. Out in the elements, sun and wind. Never knowing what kind of catch or day it would be.” I put some shells into the dish provided.
“You’ve got to be kidding, sounds like the best job in the world to me. No suit, no pressure.” He pops some crab into his mouth. “No office assholes.”
I stop eating as I stare at him. “You know, you really are a surprise. You’re nothing like I thought you’d be.”
Amusement flashes across his face as he sips his wine. “Don’t be deluded, Kate, I’m everything that you thought.”
“But you’re not.”
“I’m in holiday mode and it’s seven days.” His eyes hold mine.
“What does that mean?”
“It means that I can’t give you more than seven days.”
Why the fuck would he say that?
I stare at him for a moment and then I continue to crack my crab claw with my pliers. It feels like he’s giving me a warning.
“When was your last girlfriend?”
“Years ago.”
“How come?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know, me and relationships don’t mix.”
I stay silent, unsure what to say to that.
“When was your last relationship?” he asks.
“Serious relationship, six years ago.” I sip my wine. “I thought he was the one.”
“And he wasn’t?” He keeps his eyes on his task.
“Obviously not.”
“What happened?”
“A lot of things, can we talk about something else?”
His eyes rise to hold mine and he raises an eyebrow, unimpressed with my short answer.
“Look, I get it. You don’t want anything for more than a week and that’s fine with me.”
He picks up his drink and sips it, clearly annoyed.
“I’m sure that you have every woman in the Western world in love with you, Elliot, but I can assure you that I won’t be one of them. You are not the type of man I would fall for long-term.”
“Good.”
“Good,” I snap.
We eat in silence for a while.
“I should have fed you goat’s balls,” he mutters dryly.
“You already did,” I say. “On the plane.”
He smirks and then, unable to hold it, breaks into a broad smile. “And you loved them.”
I cut up my food as I try to keep a straight face. “They were tolerable . . . I guess.”
We stare at each other as the air crackles between us.
“I might feed you them again tonight,” he whispers darkly.
“No.” I bite my food off my fork.
“No?”
“You can show me your culinary skills tonight . . . seeing as you only have six days to impress me,” I reply flatly as I act bored. “You’re running out of days, Miles.”
He smiles, clearly amused.
“Seven including tonight, and I’ll impress you, Miss Landon . . . don’t you worry about that.”
I try to keep a straight face; I like this game.
“We’ll see.”
My back arches off the bed and I scrunch the sheets up in my hands beneath me, wet with perspiration.
He’s gone down on me, we fucked, I came, then he’s back down there with his tongue. Again, and again.
He’s flipping me around like a rag doll and holy fucking hell . . . I’m impressed.
I’ve come three times and still he won’t stop.
He’s proving without a doubt that he holds the sexual power between us and I can’t argue, there’s no contest. When we are both naked, he owns me.
I shudder hard and I grab a handful of his hair to try and pull him back from my sex.
“Enough,” I whimper. “Please, El,” I beg.
He smiles into me, his eyes flickering with satisfaction. “I’ll tell you when you’ve had enough.” In one movement, he rises and flips me over onto my stomach and pulls me up by the hips to my knees, then he slowly eases himself into me and I close my eyes at the sound of his deep guttural moan.
Fuck . . .
The man’s a god.
He slowly pulls out and then pushes back in, and the sound of my wet body echoes throughout the room. “Do you know how fucking hot that sounds?” he whispers. “Your body sucking me in.”
He pulls out and slams in hard.
“She wants it,” he says darkly. “She wants to be fucked hard.” He slaps my behind and the crack echoes all around us.
I slip into some kind of out-of-body experience, a sub space.
So lost in a deep arousal that I can’t even speak.
Then he’s riding me, deep, punishing pumps, and I can do nothing but try and keep upright on my knees.
“Watch,” he growls.
He grabs a handful of my hair and pulls my face back to face the mirror on the wall.
His dark eyes meet mine in our reflection and he begins to slowly pump me; I can see every muscle in his torso, every perspiration droplet on his sheened skin.